I had a Lucid Dream Once
by god-of-crazy
Summary: Reality comes into question.


It's been a while since I read the Sandman. Some things may not be canonical so I apologize in advance. If nothing else, I hope this story entertains you. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: The Sandman is the creation of Neil Gaiman.

* * *

I had a lucid dream once. 

My house was several kilometers in the air. It was daylight judging by the bright azure of the cloudless sky. I stepped through the front door and began to fall. Wind swirled through my hair and plastered my clothes tightly against my skin. As I plummeted closer to the ground, I became aware I was dreaming. I was also aware that in this case, death here would be no different from in the waking world.

Even if those claims were just myths, at the time I believed in them. The mind was still a vastly unmapped aspect of human physiology. Who knows? Perhaps the dream was a metaphor in regards to a vital organ in my body that was about to cease functioning. If that were the case, I would certainly do anything to prevent it from happening.

I stuck my feet out first. I didn't know what I was thinking. I just hoped that since it was a dream, I could will my body to absorb kinetic energy that was sufficient to crush a Mack truck.

3000 meters…2000 meters…1000 meters.

I was estimating my distance to the ground, all the while hoping that just pure will would be enough.

Just before I landed, I nearly shut my eyes.

I didn't.

I wanted to see my own death. Perhaps it was the morbid part in me that wanted see myself broken and twisted. Perhaps the brash side wanted to prove it would not die from something so meaningless.

My feet touched the ground and instinctual I bent my knees, but the force was so negligible, it was not even necessary. I slowly rose up and looked into the sky. My house was no longer visible. I looked around the grassy meadow and the snowy mountains in the distance. The sun was descending, and that was when I woke up.

I related this to my brother and sister. They looked at me, struggling not to laugh, but they did anyway. And they were right to laugh. When I described my adventure aloud, I felt ridiculous. My elation at surviving near death was immediately replaced with embarrassment.

Life resumed, and I thought nothing more of the dream. Except that I wanted to sleep more. Becoming hours late for a lecture became the norm.

It was worth the berating heaped upon me by my parents. Each time, the dreams became more lucid. I swear I could feel the crisp icy air of the mountains in my lungs, or smell the salty brine of the ocean. Every night, it seemed another part of the globe awaited for my arrival.

One night, I dreamt again, like the many times before, only this one would change me.

I was in my home. My feet weren't touching the ground. As I hovered above the carpeted floor, I recollected the tale of Peter Pan.

Pan told Wendy she needed a happy thought. Plain thoughts would not do. Silly thoughts did not provide enough focus. It had to be a happy thought.

As I floated, I wondered since if my happy thought was powering my buoyancy, wouldn't that mean I was happy?

Then I was.

I cannot describe what I experienced. I do know that all those times I thought I was happy, were untrue. It was merely contentment. This…was what it was like to be truly happy. It welled from within, needing nothing when I would have given everything.

Then I awoke.

* * *

From that point on, it seemed my life was on cruise control. Every action, every decision, lacked the passion I felt in my youth. Every day was the same as the other, providing nothing worth living for. I could have simply slit my wrist and ended my bleak existence except for the fact that my parents raised me to be an honorable person. I owed them everything and to abandon them in such a cruel way was tantamount to cowardice. 

I graduated from college. Became employed in a prestigious law firm; got married; had kids. I did all the usually things that were expected from me, approaching each summit with the enthusiasm of a sloth.

One sunny day in summer, a client of mine failed to show so I decided to leave early. I walked quickly to catch my bus and took a nap. A few minutes passed, and I felt the bus shift into first gear and depart.

"Hey, how was your day?"

I opened my eyes to the inquiring voice and looked around.

"Over here," said the voice.

I turned towards the speaker and I felt my jaw go slack. The concerned party was a golden retriever that sat near one of the passengers.

"How..." I uttered.

"Take it easy," said the dog. "It takes a while to get use to it."

"Ge-get used to what?" I asked.

The dog looked at me strangely. If I could guess, I would say it was amusement.

"Get used to what?" I asked again.

"Traversing the Dreaming, of course," replied the dog.

"The what?"

"The Dreaming," repeated the dog, "the realm of Dream of the Endless."

I was perplexed. The talking dog was, of course, odd. What surprised me was the fact that I knew Dream all my life, even though we never met.

"Ah ha," barked the dog. "You got that same look I had. That is if you were a dog."

"What look?"

"The look that says, 'how do I know this Dream?' Well, don't worry, it's not like he's some soul-sucking demon. Though I'm told he is, at times, much worst."

As soon as he spoke those words, the dog whined and bowed his head. "Oh shit! Please don't tell him I said that! I'll get into so much trouble."

I chuckled at the repentant dog and the initial tension bled away.

"So this is called the Dreaming? And those other times-"

"You were just encroaching the edges." He explained. "Today, you delved a little deeper than usual."

"Do you have a name?" I asked the loquacious canine.

The dog opened its jaw in what I assumed was a smile. "I'm Diesel. Pleased to meet you. What's yours?"

"My name is...is…is."

My voice trailed off and I starred at Diesel in horror. I couldn't remember my name. I couldn't remember my name! It dawned on me that I never had one to begin with! My breath became short, and raspy. I clutched at the seating frame in front of me. My knuckles cracked and my joints pop.

Diesel whined and barked. "Hey, buddy, calm down!"

"How can I calm down," I screamed. "I never existed!"

The edges of the bus began crumbling away. The passengers started to dissolve like salt crystals in a bowl of steaming soup. I gasped in shock as I saw parts of my body fragment and disappear.

I don't know what would have been the conclusion to my crashing consciousness, but thankfully, the golden retriever was there. Diesel rushed to my side and bit me. Hard.

I awoke with a start. My elbow jostled the person sitting next to me.

"You okay?" she asked.

I nodded my head, and unsteadily I got to my feet and depressed a button to signal to the bus driver to make a stop. Unfortunately, in my bewildered state, I was two stops too early.

I arrived home a half an hour late. I went into the washroom and locked the door. For hours, I starred at the mirror, delving into the reflection of my eyes, trying to see into my soul and discover my name. My efforts yielded nothing. Throughout my life, no one had referred to me by my name. It was "son," "bro," or "Dad." I never realized it until now.

A hundred different ideas arose, to explain this phenomenon. I recalled a short story I read regarding a person who have been brainwashed into believing they were a different person. I thought about that, but brainwashing couldn't erase instinct and it was telling me I had no name.

I skipped dinner. I called from the hallway that I ate something on the way home. In truth, I couldn't bear to see my "family." In all likelihood, they were falser than my life and that was not something I wanted to consider.

I crawled into bed and pulled the covers over my head.

"Get up!"

I drew back the covers and there was Diesel, sitting at the entrance of my opened door.

"A dream only," I said to myself. "Fake like everything else."

"You're damn right it's a dream," barked Diesel. "Now get up! We have to see him."

"You knew." I accused the dog.

"Knew what," he asked, genuinely puzzled.

"You knew that I'm…that I'm."

I slammed a fist against the mattress. "I don't know," I shouted, "that I wasn't completely flesh and blood!"

He looked at me stupefied. "That doesn't matter right now," he replied. "Bottom-line is that you need help."

"Why would you help me?"

I didn't think dogs could roll their eyes in exasperation but Diesel managed to execute it perfectly. "I feel responsible for creating this fiasco. I owe you. Most of all, I don't want you to die. You're a good man."

I scoffed at him. "You know Diesel, maybe it's the dog lifestyle, but I want a purpose in life. I want something to be real. If everything I've done amounts to nothing, than why bother?"

The dog glared condescendingly. "Enough with the nihilism, it makes you a whiny spoiled brat."

My shoulders sagged. "Yeah, you're right."

"So you going?"

"No. Good bye."

I waved at him and pulled the covers over my head.

"Don't you want to know who you are? How you came to be?"

I didn't respond.

"If anything, before you decide to vanish forever, maybe you should meet with him."

When I still didn't say anything, I heard him walk to the side of my bed. He stuck his head beneath the covers and starred at me with that sad face that only dogs can pull off.

"Please?"

Damn it, why was I a dog person?

I flipped the covers off and got off the bed.

"Alright," I said with a sigh, "let's go."

With his wagging tail, and my reluctant attitude, we stepped through 'my' door and onto a paved road of crushed gravel. I gestured with my hand.

"Lead on."

We walked upon the paved road. Diesel obviously had grown accustomed to the Dreaming. He never looked twice. To me, it was everything that is, that was, and that will never be. My mind should have overloaded from the abundant imagery. I half-expected my brain liquefy and pour out of my ears. I prudently abandoned that notion. I was afraid if I obsessed over the concept, it might happen.

The obstacles we faced were harrowing beyond description. Each leg of the journey I relied on different aspects of myself for motivation. Curiosity held me up quite well. When that faded, anger fueled my desire to find the Dream King. I went through every emotion, every part of the human psyche, until all that was left to keep me going was pure will.

At some point, the exhaustion became too great. I fell and my purpose became as meaningless as a drop of rain during a thunderstorm. I was going die at any moment, and frankly, I was too spent to care. It was a good thing Diesel was such a tenacious companion. He dragged me to a cave carved from the skull of some giant creature, and set off to hunt. He returned with various animals and assured me they were edible. I gradually recovered my strength and we resumed our quest.

* * *

We arrived at a looming castle and ascended the numerous steps. At the gate, three creatures of legend stood guard upon stone arches: a gryphon, a wyvern, and a hippogriff. 

Diesel bowed low and I followed suit.

The wyvern growled. "State the reason for your presence."

Diesel responded in revenant tones. "We plead an audience with the Lord Shaper."

"To what end," inquired the gryphon.

"We seek answers and, by his grace, perhaps a small boon from the Lord Shaper."

The hippogriff eyed me suspiciously. I glanced downwards and the sweat collected at my brow dripped down onto the stone surface.

"Your companion is silent," noted the hippogriff. "Speak your name."

The hippogriff demanded my gaze. I straighten up and look directly at the intimidating winged horse. I swallowed my fear and tried to talk.

"I…I don't have a name, sir."

The hippogriff looked at me in surprise.

"Indeed?"

The hippogriff descended to the stairway and drew close to me. The winged horse walked around me, looking me over. I tried my best to remain still.

The winged horse ended the inspection by stopping right in front of my sight, with a look of intrigue.

"You are not of the Dreaming or of the waking world," spoke the hippogriff.

I starred in astonishment. "What?"

Before I could ask a question, Diesel bowed again.

"My lords," begged Diesel, "please relay to the Dream King of our request."

"Very well," said the wyvern. "Keep your patience and leave peacefully should the Lord Shaper refuse."

We waited anxiously. The three creatures stood immobile, stoic. At last the wyvern spoke.

"You have been granted an audience with the Lord Shaper. Adhere to the path. Your safety is not guaranteed should you stray."

We both bowed deeply and entered through the gateway.

We passed by nightmares, rooms of treasure, of torture, of promises of infinite delights. I would have been tempted to leave and risk death, or worse, for what could have been nothing more than shadows. Thankfully, Diesel was there, biting me occasional to remind me of our purpose.

We arrived in a vast throne room and I gazed in wonder at the opulence. The floors were tiled in the whitest marble. Columns of pure diamond held a ceiling that was beyond the eye. The windows were carved from crystal, stained with various hues and depicted legendary figures from Earth and of other realms I could never imagine. I watched in amazement as I saw these figures move, carrying out the legendary deeds that had them immortalized.

I turned around to admire more of this stained crystal and instead saw Dream himself. He was garbed in white archaic robes that were the same shade as his skin and hair. His eyes were deep and fathomless, entrenched with many mysterious. Encircling his neck was a chain anchored to an emerald, with facets cut so perfectly, the gem seemed to glow with an inner fire. His presence was that of a king, or a god. But I knew he was greater than either. Both can die, with but a whim. He would be forever until the very last who dream embraced the calling of Death.

**You seek an audience and here I stand. Announce your intentions.**

I nearly faltered, but I ignored my wobbling knees and forced out the words.

"I need to know who I really am."

**The answer will not be to your liking. Do you still wish to proceed with your inquiry?**

I nodded slowly. Suddenly, I found myself in the air, floating above the highway that led to the general hospital. The transition was seamless; it was as if I had been here all along. Amongst the traffic, I saw my parents' car. It was that old, blue Camry Dad used to drive in.

**Your parents were on their way to have you delivered in a medical facility. Unfortunately, a man reeking of cheap liquor ruined what should have been a joyous plateau in their life and yours. **

I noticed immediately knew which car he referred to. It was roughly a hundred meters ahead of my parents' car, wobbling back and forth. Its lights flickered on and off as if the driver couldn't tell if it was night or day. I felt my heart size up when I saw the car careen out of control. It was a morbid chain reaction.

Once again, my surroundings changed. In front of me were a doctor and a number of nurses. On the bed was my Mother. Beside her was my Father, clasping her hand, tears streaming down his face.

**Eight people died that inauspicious day, including you. Your Mother suffered massive head trauma and lapsed into a deep coma. **

We were now standing before the bed of my Mother. Tubing and other medical machinery covered her from head to toe.

**She will never awake.**

We transitioned back into his throne room.

So that was it. I'm actually a dead man. The answers I found provided no solace. A hurricane of emotions swirled within me and slowly I sank to the ground until my forehead touched the cool marble of the throne room. I felt sadness for my Mother, anger at the driver, confusion as to why this all happened to me. If I had to pick one out that stood out above the rest, it would have to be despair.

I felt Diesel nuzzle my head and sat right next to me.

Oddly enough, that act of affection took the edge off my grief. Gradually, the swirling vortex within me subsided until I had the wherewithal to sit up right. Diesel nudged me with his nose, concern evident by his whining. I smiled and scratched behind his ears.

He wagged his tail and licked my face.

When I gathered enough of my wits, I remembered the suspicions I had regarding my situation.

I raised my head to address Dream. "This isn't where people go after they die, is it?"

He shook his head.

**No. You are one of the exceptions.**

I was very befuddled. "How is it possible?"

**Your Mother, in her grief, could not let you go. She unintentionally bind your soul within her womb. When she entered the Dreaming, she brought you along. Unconsciously, she integrated you into her dream of what could be. The stage was set and my hand assembled the necessary cast.**

I wanted to be angry, but I couldn't. Even though my life was false, the facade was done through unrequited love. I can't blame her for being my Mother.

That was it. I had finally reached the end of the road. Journey completed. _Fin…A_nd some other phrases that would have been witty had I remembered them.

"So what now?" I asked. "Will everything end with her death?"

**Whether you or your Mother dies before the other is irrelevant. You will live, you will dream, and you will die as if you were residing in the waking world. That is, if you wish it to continue.**

"What if I don't?"

**Your Mother will remain as she was. Nevertheless, since you are the keystone to her dream, it will disappear when you depart. She will lose whatever comfort you provided by your presence.**

I scratched my head. There was no significant downside to it. I would have a quasi-life that would end naturally, relatively speaking. Besides, she did raised me to hold family as second importance to personal health. Well, in the Dreaming anyway.

"Yeah," I responded, "I'll keep living the dream."

**If that is your resolution, I will erase the memories pertinent to your quest. You will retain the contentment of discovery but not its substance. Moreover, to prevent a repeat of your episode of crisis, you will have a name. Consider it as a gift from your Mother.**

He handed me a tiny bracelet strung with tiny letter blocks. I took the bracelet and read aloud the name, savoring the sound.

"Conner."

"Everything okay?" asked Diesel.

I grinned widely at the retriever and rubbed his head.

"Yeah, everything's fine," I replied.

Diesel wagged his tail ferociously. "I'm glad to hear it."

I knelt down to hug him. "Maybe I'll see you again, even if I don't remember you."

He winked at me, again amazing me with his non-canine attributes. "I'll be around."

Then he vanished.

I bowed deeply towards the Dream king.

"I thank you, my lord. Though, a few things puzzle me."

**Very well, speak of it now.**

"I had two peculiar dreams. Did they mean anything? Were they metaphors? Metaphors about the waking world?"

He nodded in affirmation.

**The first occurred at the accident. It was your death in the waking world and your rebirth into the Dreaming. The second came about when your Mother was momentarily at the juncture between the realm of the living and the dead. What you felt during that period was a moment of sheer bliss. No joys you seek or receive will ever match. That is why throughout the forged life you lived, you were always wanting.**

I nodded somberly. That emptiness will always remain. And yet, I could live with the notion of being simply content. At least now, I knew I meant something to someone that actually existed. That was enough for me.

The last words I found to be quite difficult to articulate. It would answer a question that, right now, I felt I wasn't ready to know.

"The second…what was it about?"

To my surprise, Dream smiled.

**You will discover its meaning in due time.**

**

* * *

**

I awoke, rolled over and checked my clock. I had only been asleep for half an hour. Strange thing though, it felt like weeks. I haven't felt so revitalized since I was kid. The soft padding of my wife's footsteps interrupted my thoughts. She peaked into our bedroom.

"Conner," she said, "do you want some dessert?"

My stomach growled loudly. I chuckled.

"Actually, I could use some dinner too."

I followed my wife downstairs and into the kitchen. Both of my kids were already tackling large bowls of pistachio ice cream.

She served me a big bowl of lasagna with a bowl of chicken salad on the side. I sat down, grabbed my spoon and I relished each bite as if it were my last.


End file.
